


Fighting My Way Home to You

by Mysenia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mates, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:11:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5460941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysenia/pseuds/Mysenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knew he had a major role in why Peter had ended up where he was, and now he was fighting his way to the wolf in the hopes that he was not too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting My Way Home to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IthacaontheMove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IthacaontheMove/gifts).



> For my Steter Secret Santa, who asked for hurt/comfort with a happy ending. I hope you enjoy this, and have a very Merry Christmas! :)
> 
> Huge thank you to Akira and Dena for Beta'ing, and to Mar who read it when I only had the first part written and told me it was a winner!

Stiles dodged the punch aimed for his head but could not sidestep in time to avoid the punch aimed at his solar plexus. The air whooshed out of him as pain bloomed in his stomach and he fought his every instinct that told him to curl over the pain.

He had a job to do and getting knocked out was not in the plan.

He blocked the next hit and kicked at his opponent’s knee. The satisfying crunch of bone breaking was music to his ears. His masked and darkly garbed opponent was not the end objective - they were just an obstacle between him and Peter.

Stiles’ next strike, a jab to the throat, connected solidly and his opponent fell forward, which gave him the opportunity to elbow the back of the person’s head. They fell down unconscious, and Stiles stepped over them as he made his way through the underground maze.

He catalogued his injuries as he went along, frowning as every ache made itself known. He had taken a few too many hits, and he still had a ways to go. It left him time to stew over the predicament Peter had managed to get himself into, and he cursed for the umpteenth time as he realized it was all his fault.

Footsteps echoed as they raced toward him.

Stiles slipped into a side corridor. He waited with bated breath. Every second longer it took him to get to Peter meant more time for the hunters to damage the man and that was not acceptable to Stiles.

The fact that he was running the mission solo grated on his already tender nerves. If it had been Derek or Isaac, hell even the old lady down the street, the pack would have been willing to help. Not for Peter though; no, that had apparently been asking a little too much of them.

Unless, of course, Stiles had been willing to spend hours or perhaps even days cajoling them into helping him. Time which he most certainly did not have. As it was, Stiles believed it had taken him too many hours to plan out his rescue. This was no place to berate himself though, he had a wolf to get to.

The voices moved farther away, indicating they went down a different hall, and Stiles slipped out of his hiding spot. He had three more halls on the left to go before he would reach the ventilation system that would allow him access to Peter.

The building they were under was an abandoned mental hospital. Chills raced up Stiles spine. Though he had yet to meet a ghost face to face, he fully believed they existed, and this was just feeding grounds for damned souls.

Stiles cursed in his head again as his thoughts circled back to how he had ended up sneaking through the underground labyrinth of a once long ago insane asylum in search of his errant pack mate.

_He’s more than just that_. He sneered at himself.

Stiles did not bother denying that he’d had a major role in why Peter had ended up here. If only he’d been more demanding of his personal effects, and overridden Scott’s unanimous decision, the wolf might not have been taken.

* * *

{FLASHBACK}

“I mean, it’s kind of weird right? The fact that you always jump to Peter’s defense?” Scott asked as he threw the ball at Stiles’ net.

They were practicing lacrosse as both of them wanted to try out for their college teams. Stiles knew that Scott was a shoo-in to get on the team, and he knew he was not half bad either so he had a good chance. Practicing never hurt though.

“Dude, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stiles lobbed the ball back, hoping to force Scott to miss as he purposefully threw the ball high. Scott took a running leap at it and swung his crosse smoothly through the air, timing it perfectly so that the ball landed right in the back of his net.

Scott landed gently, the ball cradled in his crosse as he contemplated Stiles’ words. “Seriously?”

“I mean, yeah okay, so I stick up for the dude. But come on! He hasn’t done anything seriously creepy in some time. And,” Stiles gestured for Scott to toss him the ball. “He has been helping us more and more. I know you aren’t there to see it, but Peter has been helping me out a lot in deciphering the bestiary and making sure it gets catalogued properly.”

“That does not take away from everything he’s done in the past though.”

Stiles waited for Scott to continue the thought or throw him the ball, but Scott did neither. “And? There’s such a thing as forgiving someone’s past sins.”

There was a distance to them right now that Stiles did not like. It made him uncomfortably aware of all the things between them that they had never talked about, and the physical distance between him and Scott just underscored it all.

“It’s not, Stiles, he killed people.” Scott paused and huffed. “They were all-”

“If you say innocent, I may just have to hit you, Scotty.” Stiles laughed hysterically, unsurprised and exasperated with his best friend. “You know those people were not innocent. They all had a part to play in completely destroying the Hales. Even Derek does not blame Peter for the lives he took, and that’s saying something.”

Scott merely sighed in response and threw Stiles the ball. “Want to come over and marathon iZombie with me?” Scott asked, blatantly changing the subject, but Stiles knew an out when he saw one and took it.

“Yeah! The first season is on Netflix!” Stiles laughed as Scott gave him a look that said ‘Duh, I know that’. Scott could not help laughing as well, and they dissolved into silly giggles.

Stiles felt renewed by their brief laugh. He and Scott tossed the ball back and a forth for another half an hour before packing everything up and heading to Scott’s place.

They had just parked in Scott’s driveway when Stiles’ cell rang. Stiles only had a moment to see that Peter was calling before Scott stole the phone out of his hand.

“No way, dude. Tonight you are hanging out with me, Peter can wait until tomorrow.” With that said, Scott ignored the call and muted it before putting it in his own pocket.

Stiles sighed, unable to fault the guy for being a bit of a dick when this was the first real full day him and Scott had spent together in some time. Stiles gave Scott the stink eye as he watched Scott get out of the Jeep, Stiles followed suit.

“If I miss a text from my dad, then the blame is falling on your shoulders!”

Stiles laughed at the horrified look on Scott’s face. He barely caught his cell when Scott tossed it to him.

“No way, dude, then I would have to hear about it from my mom.” Scott pretend shuddered and Stiles snorted at his antics.

They spent the rest of the day and well into the night watching iZombie and gorging themselves on pizza and chips. Stiles never did get another call from Peter, and it was not until the next morning that he finally got around to listening to the voicemail the older wolf had left him.

* * *

Which is how Stiles found himself here, edging down one hallway after another, and on high alert for any hunters coming his way. Peter’s message had merely been one sentence but it had been enough to chill Stiles to the bones.

_“I seem to have gotten myself into a spot of trouble.”_

No inflection of panic or worry in the wolf’s voice, just simple fact, which told Stiles that Peter was truly worried. Peter never masked himself more than when he was truly afraid, never wanting to show even a hint of weakness, but it was a tell that Stiles had long since learned to read.

He took a deep breath and let it out, steadying himself for the altercation that was surely just about to happen. The ventilation room was down the next hall, and he could hear a number of voices coming from that direction.

He grabbed at the smoke bombs on his belt, knowing he would only have a moment of surprise before everything went to shit. He had studied the blueprints of the place until he could walk each corridor blindfolded, but that did not make him feel any more secure in his plan.

When the next burst of talking filtered over to him, he slipped into the hall and took measured steps, taking care to stay in the shadows, as he made his way to the room where the light was spilling out.

Of course the ventilation room happened to be located beside the security room. All anyone who wanted to shut down and evacuate the building would have to do would be to infiltrate the air system and gas them out - which was not Stiles’ plan, but it did intervene with his plan to use the ventilation system to smuggle Peter out - and thus security was right there to kibosh any of those plans. At least, that’s what Stiles’ thoughts were on the strategic placement of the rooms. He would have no way to know for certain, since he sure as hell was not going to stop to ask.

He managed to reach the security room. Using a mirror, he glanced around the corner to count the number of personnel. Three people stood about the room, and Stiles finally saw the reason why he had not been caught as of yet.

All three hunters’ were firmly focused on the largest screen in the room. The screen that depicted a horrific scene.

Stiles glimpsed Peter and three hunters, what looked to be cattle prods and a variety of sharp instruments on a tray. He could see Peter’s face screwed up in anguish as one of the prod-like objects was held against him. He could only be grateful there was no sound.

Stiles took a moment to close his eyes before opening them in determination. Peter was being tortured, for sport it seemed, and these assholes were laughing over it and placing bets. It was more than enough to make Stiles see red. His spark surged up, pulsing at his fingertips.

He detached a smoke bomb and threw it into the room. He delighted in the startled yells from the three hunters. He charged in with his knives out and thirsting for blood.

He and Peter were nothing more than friends, but the wolf was family, and no one messed with a member of the Stilinski family unless they were asking for pain.

The first hunter went down easy with a quick jab to the spine. The second hunter did not fare any better. Stiles slashed at the inside of the man’s thigh as the man went to kick Stiles in the head. Stiles tried not to think about the blood he was spilling even though he knew it was necessary.

Stiles still had the element of surprise on his side as he went after the third hunter, but the woman wore goggles that voided out the effects of the smoke. She whipped out a gun and fired off a shot that skimmed the top of Stiles’ left thigh.

Stiles hissed as the pain of it shot through him like an electric current. He just managed to dodge to the side as another shot rang off. He had to get her immobilized and fast; otherwise, the noise would draw more unwanted attention.

Stiles reached for his belt and pulled on a pouch just as the hunter rounded on him. He grabbed a handful of the contents of the pouch and blew it in the hunter’s face, relishing her immediate choking as she inhaled the pepper.

He followed the pepper with a punch to the nose that knocked her back. She stumbled over one of her dead companions and fell back, hitting her head on the way down.

Stiles shakily got to his feet. He surveyed the three before him. None of them were moving, and Stiles let himself grieve for a moment for the lives he had been forced to take.

The room was still full of smoke, but Stiles could see the screens well enough when he approached them. During the time Stiles was occupied, Peter had been left alone in his room. It meant that Stiles did not have much time before someone would most likely come looking for the three hunters.

Stiles pulled out the flash drive that would enable Stiles to wipe the hard drive of any system he plugged it into. Danny had given him the flash drive for emergency situations only. This was an emergency.

Stiles only stayed in the room long enough to make sure that all the systems crashed and that there would be no hope for recovery before he pocketed the flash drive and headed over to the next room.

The ventilation system in the place was all brand new, which Stiles could only be grateful for. It meant he would be able to crawl through the vents without fear of being detected by creaking metal.

Stiles shifted the grate off the ventilation shaft and squeezed inside. He was not a fan of small spaces, but this was the fastest way to get to his wolf.

Travelling the vents was equals parts fast and slow. Fast because he could proceed without worry of running into anyone, but slow because every time he heard a noise or a voice he froze.

It took him about 10 minutes to reach the room where Peter was being held. The vent was located on the ceiling, too high for the wolf to have been able to reach it unless he was in top physical condition. Stiles cringed looking at the drop he would have to make. He had rope but nowhere to anchor it, and he resigned himself to more pain.

The grate opened smoothly, and Stiles pulled out his mirror again to make sure there were no hunters near by. He and Peter would have to leave the room by going out the only door, but if they managed it, Stiles had a plan that would take them out via the sewage system - not the nicest way to escape, but definitely the most efficient and fastest from where they were.

Peter did not move when Stiles landed and rolled to lessen the impact of the fall. Stiles whipped his head around to look at the door, ears straining to hear any noise. He was not surprised when he could not hear a thing, he had planned on them soundproofing the room so the werewolf would not be able to detect anything, but it did present a major obstacle.

A clawed hand grabbed his throat. Startled, Stiles fell back into Peter as the wolf pulled him in, his claws scratching red lines along Stiles’ throat as his hand squeezed in warning.

Before Stiles had a chance to say anything, Peter slumped into him, the hand relaxing and dropping into Stiles’ lap as the wolf fully leaned on him.

“You came.” Peter’s voice was hoarse but those two words held so much meaning in them that Stiles felt his chest constrict.

“Of course I did.” Stiles turned around slowly, and cradled Peter against his body. He let Peter nuzzle into his neck for a moment. He cupped Peter’s face and moved the wolf’s head so Stiles could look him straight in the eye. “You’re my family.”

Every feeling that Stiles had tried to bury for his wolf came spilling out in that simple sentence, and he knew Peter understood when the wolf’s eyes grew large.

Peter smiled softly at him. “And you’re my pack.”

Stiles bit his lip to keep from saying anything (now really was not the time), but he nodded so Peter would know that Stiles had understood the meaning behind the wolf’s words as well. Stiles let out a huff of laughter at their timing. It was so like them to confess to each other when at any moment they could be taken down by the enemy

“We need to get out of here. I have a plan, and I know you’re not going to like it, but you’re not allowed to bitch at me until we’re home.” Stiles purposefully left out which home he was referring to. He assumed the wolf knew it meant Peter’s apartment when all Peter did was nod in response.

Stiles reached into a different pouch on his belt, which held mountain ash, and used some glue to stick the powder to the door. He had only tried this once before as a joke, but it had worked then, so Stiles knew it would work now. He went back to Peter and pulled the wolf down into the corner and blocked Peter from any debris that could result from the blast.

Peter’s warmth at his back helped him center himself and he willed the mountain ash to blow open the door. It was flashier than he wanted, but there was no other way to get the two of them out of the room.

A puff of smoke was the only warning they got before the door blew open due to the force of the mini bomb. Stiles just barely remembered to slip the second mask over Peter’s face before the smoke flowed heavily into the room.

Just as predicted, the blast drew the attention of the hunters guarding the door, and they piled into the room. The hunters were at a disadvantage as the blast had clearly hurt them and they did not have masks to protect them from the smoke. However, they did wield guns with wolfsbane infused bullets.

The hunters would just have to raze the room with bullets and Peter and Stiles would have no way to protect themselves. Stiles refused to let that happen. The hunters still had not seen them and that gave Stiles the chance to dart them with a tranquilizer. He only had four shots, but it was enough to deal with the two hunters, and they went down easily.

“Impressive.” Peter croaked out from behind him, and Stiles turned in alarm to see that his wolf was very pale.

They did not have anymore time to waste.

Stiles pulled Peter to his feet and made sure the wolf was steady, before he pulled Peter to the door. To the right there was a dead end, and to the left the hallway shot out. He took his last smoke bomb and threw it down the hallway to slow down any pursuers and urged Peter across the hall to the janitor’s closet.

Stiles had stumbled upon the room while memorizing the blueprints, and he knew it would be the perfect way to escape because it had a trapdoor leading down to the sewers.

Stiles yanked on the door, but it did not budge.

The hinges were rusted shut.

Stiles panicked. He tried again, but the door was immovable.

“I don’t–this is the only way I planned to get us out.” Stiles whispered shakily to Peter as he used both hands to open the door.

Peter did not respond, instead he nudged Stiles out of the way and braced himself as he pulled on the door. It creaked before thankfully giving way, and Stiles helped Peter open it fully. Peter wrinkled his nose in distaste at the smell of sewage that wafted in, but did not argue as Stiles gestured for him to make his way down the ladder.

Stiles followed as soon as Peter hit the bottom, only stopping to put a lock on the handles to make it harder for anyone to follow them. Stiles pulled out the little flashlight he had, and shone it light down into the tunnel. It was quick work to get to the bottom of the ladder from there.

Stiles lead the way. They traversed the same path for 30 minutes before making their first turn. If his calculations were correct, they would be find to a ladder at the end of the tunnel if they followed it to the end. Stiles had purposefully chosen this route because it was the least confusing way out. He’d parked his Jeep close to the exit.

Peter did not say anything as they travelled, and Stiles did not feel much like talking himself. His own injuries were making themselves known, and breathing was becoming a serious problem, alongside the chill that had taken root deep in his bones.

Stiles kept looking back to make sure the wolf was not falling behind. Just because Peter was a werewolf did not mean that the injuries he had sustained would not affect him. Psychological trauma was just as bad, if not worse than physical trauma, and the hunters had had Peter for almost a full 72 hours. Who knew what kind of mind games the hunters had played on him?

Stiles found the ladder he was looking for by falling into it, literally. He tripped over something at the bottom of the sewage tunnel and went flailing forward, only just managing to catch himself on the rungs. Peter managed a weak chuckle behind him. The sound lifted Stiles’ spirits.

If his wolf could laugh at his unique, charming qualities than there was hope that Peter was not as bad off as Stiles had initially feared.

“It’s only a little bit farther. Up this ladder, and then we have to make a short trek to the Jeep, but then we are home free.” Stiles tried to inflect happiness into his voice to mask the exhaustion creeping up on him.

Peter grunted at him in response.

Stiles climbed the ladder and pushed open the door, knowing it would release with ease since he had made sure it was unlocked before making his way into the asylum on his rescue mission.

It was just breaking dawn as they climbed out of the sewage tunnel, and Stiles was grateful that they’d have light to make their way through the small bit of forest to the Jeep. It would only be a 5 minute walk to the Jeep, so Stiles straightened his shoulders and led them confidently onward.

Peter’s continued silence worried Stiles, but Stiles knew that the most important step right now was to get them away from this place.

There had been no time to set false leads in the sewage tunnels, so there was a chance that they could be followed to their current location. Stiles hoped he had surprise on his side to buy himself and Peter a little more time.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Stiles glanced back at Peter. Peter gave Stiles’ shoulder a squeeze before dropping his hand. Stiles quickly choked back a sob. Peter was the one who had been captured and tortured, and here he was comforting Stiles.

Stiles took the silent support though, using it to fight back the panic and terror creeping ever forward in his mind. This was the first time he’d had to run a mission solo, where all the weight of leadership fell solely on his shoulders; it was not a mantel he wanted to wear often.

Peter would berate him later for not asking for help, and even though Stiles knew the pack would have begrudgingly helped in the end, this was something he had been driven to do alone. Peter was this marrow deep ache that dogged his every footstep when they were apart, which meant so much more than just friends or even family.

_I don’t breathe but for Peter’s heart singing me home_ , Stiles thought to himself. It was just like a kidnapping situation to make one realise their true feelings.

Stiles saw the Jeep and relaxed, they only had the drive back to the apartment, where Stiles would look Peter over and make sure that at least his physical wounds were healed. The mental wounds, well, Stiles would be there each step of the way to help his wolf heal those as well.

Stiles reached back and smiled when Peter grabbed his hand, squeezing it before intertwining their fingers. Peter’s grip was strong and reassuring.

They reached the Jeep without any complications, and Stiles ushered Peter in before taking one final glance around. There was no wind whispering through the trees, and the critters were all hidden away.

He rounded the Jeep and hopped into the driver seat, buckling in before gunning it away. He wanted to get Peter as far away from this horrible place as quickly as possible.

The ride to Peter’s apartment was quiet, but it gave Stiles time to contemplate their future. It had been a revelation, realising that Peter meant more to him than a close friend or family member. Not so astounding that he had to reevaluate his past actions, but enough to make him unsure of how to act around Peter now that he’d acknowledged his feelings.

Every glance showed Peter to be resting, but Stiles did not doubt that the wolf was very aware of the emotions roiling inside Stiles.

He could not help the uptick of his heart when he caught sight of Peter’s lashes fluttering; nor the rhythmic gripping of the steering wheel when he denied his urge to reach over and grasp Peter’s hand in his own; and he was powerless against the full body shudder that stole over him at the thought of covering the wolf with his body, and protecting him from the world.

The thoughts had always been there–these feelings ever present in Stiles–but it felt more somehow now.

“Sweetheart, I don’t have the capacity to soothe you right now. So if you would please desist all your nervous fidgeting, it would be much appreciated.” Peter said. “It’s okay. _I know_ –and, it’s good.”

Stiles looked at Peter and saw a small uptick at the corner of the wolf’s mouth, and Stiles smiled in response. It was good.

Peter’s apartment was located right downtown - a strategic placement against those not wishing to draw attention to the supernatural - and he lived on the top floor. Unlike the old loft, this apartment was well kept and everything was in working order, for which Stiles was extremely grateful as he did not have the energy or wherewithal to drag Peter up the numerous flights of stairs.

It was quick work getting to Peter’s door and unlocking it, which only confirmed for Stiles that Peter had not been taken from his own apartment. All the details surrounding Peter’s kidnapping were fuzzy to him, but at least here he and Peter would be safe.

When the door was closed and the locks all in place, the tension that had sat on their shoulders drifted away.

“Shower or bed?” Stiles asked Peter, tightening the arm he held around Peter’s waist. The wolf was barely using Stiles to support himself, but at this point Stiles could admit the touch was much more comfort for him than it was help for Peter.

“Shower. Their stench is all over me.”

Stiles nodded and led Peter to the bathroom. “I just, uh, need to see you to, you know, make sure you’re all right.”

“If you wanted to see me naked, Stiles, all you had to do was ask.” Peter said with a wink.

Stiles snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Peter, I want to see you naked.” He said, keeping eye contact with his wolf. “But later. Right now, I just–Peter I saw what they were doing to you, please, just let me look you over. I know you heal fast, but I need to see it.”

“I’m right here.” Peter replied, walking up to Stiles. “You saved me.”

It was not until Peter gently took Stiles’ hands in his that Stiles realised they were clenched, and his arms were trembling. Peter rubbed at Stiles’ hands until Stiles relaxed his fists and then the wolf stepped back, undressing promptly.

Peter dropped the jacket onto the floor that Stiles had hastily thrown over his shoulder once they’d been seated in the Jeep. He then stripped off his shirt. The jeans were next, and they landed in a pile with the rest of the clothes Peter had been wearing. Stiles would be burning it all later, destroying the potential for sense memories to drag down his wolf later.

Stiles stepped up to Peter. He ran his hands lightly down Peter’s arms, taking care to gently feel for any abrasions. He let his magic float to the surface, and Stiles used it at his fingertips to probe for any injuries that might lay deeper in the cells.

He quickly, but methodically, looked over every inch of Peter, using the same method. Stiles noted that Peter’s nipples pebbled as his fingers drifted over them. He let his fingers glide back and forth across Peter’s peck, mesmerized with the minute twitching of his muscles.

Peter’s thighs clenched when Stiles dropped to his knees in front of the wolf, and Stiles couldn’t help smirking. He squeezed Peter’s thigh, grazing his nails gently along the inside of the thigh to hear the wolf gasp.

Peter let out a soft chuckle when Stiles’ fingers ghosted over the wolf’s feet. Stiles filed the information of the ticklish spot away for later.

Stiles motioned for Peter to turn around. He proceeded to work his way up the wolf. Everything was fine, Stiles’ magic readings came back normal, until he ghosted his fingers along Peter’s back. The wolf tensed the closer Stiles’ fingers came to brushing over his kidneys. Stiles closed his eyes and breathed deeply, pushing his magic into Peter to see the nerve damage to Peter’s kidneys.

“They tased me there. Just kept it going and going.” Peter explained as Stiles healed the wounds. “Not something I’m unused to, but it w-was what they said that affected me.” Peter cleared his throat. “They told me they’d captured you shortly after the caught me, told me they had done to you what they were doing to me. Only they said they increased the voltage they used on you until your kidneys collapsed and you had died from internal bleeding. They fucking laughed about it and wondered how much more it would take to have the same effect on me. They just kept it going, and I knew they were lying, but I couldn’t–after awhile I started to believe them.” Peter trailed off, shoulders hunched forward as if trying to protect himself from the remembered pain and anguish.

Stiles silently finished healing Peter’s kidneys and finished his perusal of the rest of Peter’s back before he wrapped his arms around the wolf’s stomach and leaned his head against the back of Peter’s neck. Peter brought his arms up to grip at Stiles’ arms, pulling Stiles tighter against his body.

“You were so brave, Peter, so strong and brave,” Stiles told his wolf before pressing his lips to the back of Peter’s neck. Stiles reluctantly pulled back from Peter, the wolf dropping his arms, and Stiles backed out of the bathroom. “Okay, you shower, and I’m going to fix us up some food.”

Stiles made his way to the kitchen, listening for any sound from his wolf to indicate that Stiles was needed. Stiles opened the fridge and spotted some bacon and a carton of eggs so he pulled those out.

_Breakfast sounds good right about now. Maybe some pancakes too, if Peter has the ingredients for it_ , Stiles thought to himself as he searched through Peter’s cupboards.

Stiles was delighted when he found everything he would need to make pancakes. He set about making the pancake batter and turned on the oven. When that was done he placed some tinfoil on the baking sheet and lined the bacon on it; he would put the bacon in the oven once it was heated.

Stiles loved making breakfast, loved feeding people in general.

He snacked as he cooked the pancakes the bacon. He platted the pancakes and fried up some eggs just in time for Peter to walk out of his bedroom, dressed and ready for food.

Peter set the table as Stiles finished plating the eggs and took the bacon out of the oven. He placed the bacon on a separate dish and brought all the plates to the table where Peter was sitting.

“Smells wonderful.” Peter said as he helped himself to the food.

It filled Stiles with warmth to watch Peter eat, listening to the little satisfied noises the wolf let out. Stiles did not waste time in helping himself to the food. They soon demolished everything sitting in front of them.

Stiles pushed back from the table with a groan and patted his belly. He had eaten almost too much. He could see Peter smiling at him from the corner of his eye, and he turned to grin at the wolf as Peter snatched up his plate.

Stiles quickly laid his hand on Peter’s arm, stopping the wolf from cleaning up. “I know it’s our routine that whoever doesn’t cook has to clean, but just let me do this for you.”

Peter regarded him silently before nodding. “I want you to join me on the couch when you’re done. I find myself needing and wanting to hold you.”

“Dude, I want nothing more than just that.”

Peter rolled his eyes fondly before he left Stiles to deal with the mess in the kitchen. Peter did not have a dishwasher - he did not like the sound of it running - but Stiles made quick work of washing the dishes and left them to dry on the rack. He put away the eggs, took one last look at the kitchen, and finally made his way to the living room.

Peter was sprawled along the couch. A soft blanket covered his lower half. He lifted the blanket when Stiles walked closer, and Stiles could feel heat creeping up his back and under his arms.

Stiles made to climb onto the couch beside Peter. The wolf was having none of that, though, and he pulled Stiles ontop of him instead. Peter rearranged the blanket and tucked Stiles’ head under his chin.

Nerves tingled inside Stiles, but the position felt right.

It was cuddling, and it was perfect. Peter was warm, and the blanket kept the heat in. Stiles shut his eyes as exhaustion swamped him.

“I’ve wanted to hold you like this for ages,” Peter confided, as he pressed a kissed to the top of Stiles’ head.

“Yeah.” Stiles replied, as he snuggled into Peter. “Are you–I mean, you’re okay, right?”

“I’ll need to hold you a little longer before I feel truly okay, but all my wounds are healed.”

Stiles danced the fingers of his left hand along Peter’s chest. His breath evened out as he slipped into sleep.

One last thought struck him, and he struggled to open his eyes. He sat up so he could look at his wolf, who currently had a curious brow raised.

“Yes?” Peter asked, smirk firmly in place.

Stiles wondered if the wolf had been anticipating the question he was about to ask. “So, how did you manage to get yourself caught?”

“Oh well, you see, I walked into their bar and apparently that wasn’t allowed.” Peter winked at him.

Stiles groaned and dropped his head down onto Peter’s chest, grinning to himself as the wolf let out an oomph.

“And what happened to your survival instincts?” He asked, his face still smooshed into Peter’s chest.

“It was, admittedly, not my best plan, but I was never in doubt that my mate would find me.”

Stiles sucked in a gasp as his head shot up, seeking out his wolf’s eyes for confirmation. “Mate?”

Peter cupped his face, thumb rubbing soothingly along Stiles’ cheekbone. “I choose you as my own, my mate, and if you accept then we can make it official later.”

Stiles smiled so wide, it hurt his cheeks. He laid his head back onto Peter’s chest and whispered. “I accept, my wolf.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think.
> 
> \- M


End file.
